Train journeys... are mostly ace.

Six hours and it is dark outside.

I am in a predictable fug of orange,
though not Strongbow twitchy
like the chap next to me, and

I would like to say that here
there are shadows of us, following.
But it is without light-source, and context,

that I sit feigning knowledge
of the next stations, waiting
in my purple coat, like everyone here,

for the next stop in light from every direction.
There is only reflection here
and I am in it just like everyone else.